A short drive down the freeway to Hood River brought me two good used sailboard sails, but no fishing license and no chance of fishing until the following day.
9/6: THE DESCHUTES AT DRY CREEK: My brother & I fish this part of the river annually when I visit Oregon. He fishes it regularly all summer long so knows it as well as I know my home streams. I arrived an hour ahead of him, and set off downstream to experiment with different tactics in a couple of runs & eddies.
It took a while to get comfortable on this very powerful water, but I finally was able to land five fish using a serendipity up front and a # 20 OS-1 as a tailer. These weren't large bows, but were quite strong as the Deschutes redsides are want to be.
When Rick arrived, we had only a couple of hours to cast, so boffed down a couple of Coors & went back downstream, fishing runs, eddies, & bank water as we moved along. Caddis are everywhere along the stream and are the dominant insect by far. As the air was colder due to a frontal passage, the flies were not active, and I continued to have better luck under the surface than on top.
By the time nightfall arrived, we'd both gotten into probably 6-12 fish apiece, some of which ranged to 15" though most were 10-13". As a note for me to remember, just as the sky was getting completely dark, there was a period of roughly fifteen minutes when the fish went wild on the surface and my brother picked up a half dozen in a hurry while I landed only one during this period. The problem was that it got so dark so quickly that I could not see to change my nymphs to a surface caddis. It's also worth noting that I took a number of whitefish on the OS-1, but the rainbows preferred the serendipity.
9/7: SAME PLACE THE FOLLOWING MORNING: We did our standard five mile hike downstream to a very special riffle. Rick let me have this water while he went to the next upstream section. Fish weren't coming up regularly, but I did land five medium rainbows and missed twice that many, a pattern that was to haunt me for the rest of the day. Don't know what was happening but I repeatedly missed strikes. Because bro has to get back to Portland this afternoon, we fished sections quite rapidly. He was more successful in attaching himself to fish when they struck, while I was getting more strikes, but fewer hookups.
Interestingly I'm not sure if I was too fast or too slow, but his overall results were better, as they should be on his home water. We'll see what happens tonight when we go out closer to dark.
From a hatch standpoint there were quiet batches of caddis on streamside foliage, but they were not actively over the water this day. I used a comparadun up front and an elk hair at the end and had equal numbers of strikes on each fly. 9/7: SAME PLACE-LATER IN THE DAY: Changed to a double nymph rig and went downstream a short ways to test the setup in the heat of the day. Strikes were in short supply, but as with the prior day, the rainbows were more enticed by the "S" fly and a couple of whitefish came to the OS-1's.
Heading back to camp for dinner the heat was oppressive. Taking time going back to the water around 7:00, the previous evening's good surface action again began at around 7:40 and ended with pitch blackness at 8:00.
9/7: SOME THOUGHTS ON POISON OAK, RATTLESNAKES, AND CHUCK THE PLUMBER....
POISON OAK's the most prevelent pest in the area. It poses a real problem for anyone not familiar with the bush as it grows best near the water. Look for the three symetrically shaped leaves which are mostly turning red this time of year. Trails down the bank tend to work their way around the biggest patches.
RATTLESNAKES are a lot fewer in number, but very active this year. A recent major fire on the hills above Dry Creek has driven many (most?) of those bad critters down to the area we fishermen inhabit. I never went out on any kind of walk without seeing at least one, so exercise caution. If you've hiked five miles downstream and get hit by one, it's a serious problem as there is no help to be had.
CHUCK THE PLUMBER is a party of one and the most obnoxious pest of all. Chuck's retired, living with a local Warm Springs tribe native American lady and loves to invade everyone's privacy with an abandon that knows no bounds. My brother & I met Chuck the first day as he was wheeling around the camp in an old beater of a Mercury Cougar.
He's a hail fellow well met and wants to tell everyone how he's retired, is going to become a member of the tribe, how he can fish anywhere and use anything and take as many fish as he wants. He looks a little bit like the deceased Walter Houston, but with none of that director's charm.
Anyway I was the only person camped in this area, so Chuck drove back at night while I was just finishing up on the river and set up his camp 10 feet from mine. When I got back from fishing at 8:30, I found him and his there and they asked me to share a cup of coffee with them which I politely declined and then dove into the tent to avoid further conversation.
I thought I'd visited a couple of camps from hell before, but the rest of the night redefined the word hell. Chuck and his lady argued for six straight hours - he lambasting her and she biting right back at him in her monotonal voice. She and he alternated jumping in and out of the squeaky Cougar, slamming doors and the trunk until at least 2:00 in the morning, when I guess I passed out.
Happily I was able to slip away from camp in the morning when Chuck went to the john, so I didn't have a chance to lose it completely with him.
9/8: THE NEXT DAY: As I had the whole day to fish here and maybe one other place before having to drive to Roseburg by dinner time, I again hiked downstream to what we call "11 inch riffle". It was coined that by my brother and Bill Youngman in earlier times. The fish have either pretty much grown up or our techniques are better cause Rick caught a 16 incher there yesterday and I did the same this morning - today on the serendipity modification. A couple of more smaller fish came to the bank and then I headed up to "Magic Water." It's never been that way for me, and today was no exception. A couple more modest rainbows and one nice whitefish came to hand, but that was all.
Shortly the caddis and some lovely gray drakes started working on the surface. Fish came to them readily and to my comparaduns too, but as was the case yesterday, I missed 75% of my strikes. So that was more or less the story of the Deschutes. I fished my way back to the car & headed off down the highway for Redmond and the McKenzie Pass.
Stopping at a favorite old spot on the icy cold upper Mckenzie produced one strike on an OS-1 and nothing else. A bit further downstream I landed one smallish rainbow on the same fly. Then it was off to Roseburg.
9/9: WHISTLER'S BEND: The primary purpose of this trip to Oregon is to visit with my parents, both of whom remain alive & healthy in their early 80's. So while I try to get in as much fishing as possible, the bulk of my time has to be spent in conversations with them.
This afternoon we elected to do our annual picnic to the Whistler's Bend county park on the North Umpqua so that afforded an opportunity for an hour's casting in some nice riffle water. I nymphed my way up a large, deep run without success, then changed to a caddis floater trailed by an OS-1 emerger.
In the 35 minutes I had allotted for fishing with that rig I landed roughly 20 small steelhead and salmon smolt. The fish had grown up from my trip here in May but were still pint sized. It was fun watching them slash at the caddis with reckless abandon, sometimes leaping completely over the fly in their eagerness to hook themselves.
9/10: STEWART PARK SMALLMOUTHS: Or rather I should say a smallmouth or two. The main and South Umpqua rivers are highly renowned for their smallmouth bass fishing. Unfortunately the only place I can easily get to from my folk's house without being gone longer than they are comfortable with (2 hours) is a big hole in the most popular park in town. Worm buckets are everywhere and these fish have probably seen every lure, bait, etc. ever grown, designed, tied, etc.
When you walk out on the edge of the rocks, the bass cluster around facing you wondering what they're going to be fed this morning. So I've never really had much luck here. Mind you it's possible to catch small (3-6 inch) bass on every cast simply by jigging the nymph right off the edge of the rocks, but that's not much fun at all. Today I started out with a dun hackled, olive wooley bugger that was very successful at Lake Powell this spring. Right off it caught a couple of fish - in the size range noted above.
Changing to various sized nymphs produced the same results. Finally I tied on a black marabou winged bead head streamer that seemed to temporarily drive the fish wild. Didn't land any big ones but they sure did get after it for a while. Since you can see the fish take the lure here, I watched several decent ones inhale the marabou all the way to the hook and then suck on it, much like a child would go to the nipple. Anyway I finally landed a couple of 8 inchers, had a couple of foot longs strike and called it a day, but next year I'm coming back with more marabouey-like flies.
9/11: JOHN SMOLTZ AT WINCHESTER: The town of Winchester is the first place I-5 crosses the North Umpqua as you head towards Portland out of Roseburg. My brother & I grew up fishing this water and killed countless numbers of cutthroats, steelhead, and the occasional salmon in these deep runs (when we were younger of course). Nowadays there are few of those wonderful anadromous fish left, especially this time of year.
So rather than tilt at windmills casting for steelhead I usually head for some riffle water in the hopes of landing a large John "Smolts" and/or a holdover resident trout or two. Starting out with the ever popular elk hair hybrid, I got a couple of fish on and off but the action wasn't hot & heavy. So noticing a large drake in the air, I changed to a good sized mahogany comparadun and things picked up right away. Mind you these are not large fish, but it's better to catch something than nothing. For the hour I fished here I hooked and shook off easily a couple of dozen fish. Most were tiny but a couple were in the 10 inch range which size is fine for this water.
AN ASIDE: Some slightly maudlin comments that I need to record for my own sake. They have nothing to do with the fishing trip and are just personal thoughts on life.
Roughly 50 years ago my folks introduced my brother Rick & I to golf and at the same time also taught us the game of bridge. We still all play decent bridge when we get together a couple of times a year. But I think we probably shot our last nine holes of golf together yesterday. The folks are both in their mid 80's and still have a golf membership at the local club. They're cancelling it next year for a social one instead.
We'd planned to go to the club for a Tuesday night buffet and mom suggested we try nine holes before dinner, so dad & I agreed. When we got out there, the course was a mess. The fairways had been plugged that morning and the greens too. The temperature 85 degrees. But we started out anyway. Dad & mom played the first hole well. Dad got a little worse on the second and when he whiffed his first two attempts at a drive on the third that was more or less the end for him. Mom lasted until the sixth when she started getting short of breath, so she alternated holes between there and the end.
Neither of them remarked on the round afterwards, but I think we all understood that's pretty much the end of golf for the family. It had to happen some day, but it was still difficult to be a part of the ending.
ANOTHER ASIDE: Every morning in Roseburg I go for a run before breakfast. It's a ritual I follow here as well as in Vail. Otherwise I'd weigh a thousand pounds given the amount of food I eat and wine I drink. My usual running route here is through Stewart Park. The park has a little league diamond, the YMCA, a public nine hole golf course, an outdoor amphitheater, a wildlife area, and a circular bike path more or less around the whole park.
Every year when I run through the wildlife section of the park I see different domestic animals that have obviously been abandoned by their owners. Last year there were three white bunnies that hopped in and out of the blackberry vines when I jogged by them each morning. This year they're not around.
But each day this year as I've run by a certain pine tree a rooster crows when I pass by. I've seen him and another in the same tree each morning. The crowing is not happy crowing. It's just plain mournful. They miss the people who used to keep them. But no one feeds them any more. When the rains come shortly, they'll have no place to keep dry either. I suspect I'll not see them next year either. That makes me sad.
9/12: UP ABOVE WINCHESTER: The dam on the North Umpqua at Winchester creates a small lake. Just upstream from the end of the lake there are a nice set of riffles that usually hold decent quantities of small trout. (Let's face it, large ones are few and far between on this river.)
Having tied up a bunch of serendipities for the Deschutes next week I expected to have to nymph with them this afternoon. But it wasn't to be the case. The usual caddises were in the shrubs along the stream and a nice hatch of what looked like tiny BWO's was going on. And there were a few huge brown drakes in the air. So I left on my mahogany comparadun from the day before and had all kinds of fun. The first stretch yielded four small, but feisty rainbows and the rest of the hour I fished probably produced another two dozen fish - none were over 10 inches, but it made for a pleasant outing.
9/13: BAKER PARK: Located a couple of miles into fly only water on the North Umpqua, Baker Wayside is a popular picnic spot and has nice riffle water. And that's what dad & I did - picnic first - then I waded & fished the riffle water. It was a cold day, the first rain of the fall happened today and wet wading was basically not much fun. Tiny gray drakes (probably BWO's) were present, but as fish did not come easily to the dry I changed to two #18 serendipties, one green and the other gray, and caught fish equally on both. Fish sizes were similar to the lower river and probably a dozen came to hand in the hour I cast today.
9/15: BROTHER RICK came down from Portland for a family get together. The group mostly plays bridge, drinks moderately, and eats to excess, but Rick & I had time for a couple of quick outings on the south and north rivers. Because of time constraints we're forced to fish the most easily accessible spots which limits our success rate.
Nonetheless our first venture to Stewart Park produced doubles on double serendipities for me and maybe 20 fish overall, mostly on a rather strange marabou fly. It's tied on a standard length #12 hook with a thin green flashabou body and black marabou tied directly behind a brass bead head. Frankly it worked like crazy today.
After lunch, while the parents took their mandatory afternoon nap, we raced out to Winchester and cast to that same water I hit a couple of days earlier. Both of us caught some nice, but small rainbows, then headed home to listen to the football games.
9/16: BACK TO THE DESCHUTES: Picked up my fishing partner Sue in Portland. She was vacationing on the coast with one of her friends from Seattle. We had a nice lunch at the Multnomah Club and then headed over towards Warm Springs again. Got a license and provisions near Mt. Hood so we could go directly to Dry Creek without stopping again.
Tactics were exactly the same as with my brother. We first swirled nymphs in eddies that evening and just before the blackness settled in, we tossed dry caddis flies. Success was a bit spotty, but we both landed several fish in the 8-16" range.
9/17: FIVE MILES OF HOOFING IT downriver brought us to the great riffle that is always our destination to begin fishing back up river. Unfortunately it was very marginal fishing this date bringing only a couple of small fish and a couple more strikes. That's a far cry from the 3-5 pounders that we've hooked here in the past. Moving upstream to "11 incher riffle" resulted in a couple more trout and three nice whitefish. The whiteys on the Deschutes are not as powerful as those on the Roaring Fork and I actually had a couple of them swallow the nymph, something which would never happen on that other river.
It was a very pleasant day of fishing but brought only modest success for us. The night casting was the same, but Sue caught several nice fish right in our camp site. Happily on this day we saw no snakes, and that was the only 24 hour period I didn't encounter one somewhere along the river.
9/18: MILDLY ROTTEN WEATHER prompted us to stay an extra day on the Deschutes. So we basically duplicated the previous day's process and the success rate was roughly the same. I had decent luck using a # 18 serendipity in both gray and green bodied versions, and of course, the surface caddises and comparaduns did their share of damage as well. We had lots of strikes, but both of us were not overwhelmingly successful in getting hookups or landings. Don't know what the problem was. My feelings are that these fish are softer mouthed than our Colorado rainbows, although that may just be an excuse. Sizes were roughly the same as the prior day, but I did have an 18-19 inch fish on for several minutes before he pulled free.
9/19: A COUPLE OF CASTS into an eddy before breaking camp brought Sue one last Deschutes redside and her only encounter with a rattler. As she reached down to unhook the fish, the snake was just resting in a clump of grass, so she gracefully backed away and "long released" the trout. The snake didn't shake, so we didn't know he was there. It was cold that morning and he was probably just trying to wake up.
Our later-in-the-day plan had been to visit some private water running into the East Fork of The Salmon near Chalice, Idaho, but we opted to pass on that idea due to the time involved getting up there. We'll save that for next year.
9/20: THE ROARING FORK - NOT: Arriving in Glenwood Springs early in the morning, we had a great breakfast at Rosies and drove up the river a ways to think about some fishing. Frankly it was just too damned cold. There was snow on the surrounding mountains down to the 8,000 foot level, so we just got back in the car and drove to Vail.